


Lessons in Occlumency, Regret, and Forgiveness

by Mohini



Series: Occlumens [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2590715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mohini/pseuds/Mohini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lessons had been painful from the beginning, memories he never wanted to see again dredged up from the depths of his psyche. He had somehow managed thus far to keep the worst things hidden deeply enough, but even the best defenses have the potential to fail to a strong enough assault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Legilimens

Harry dropped to all fours, his head throbbing as he struggled against the agony Snape’s violent Legilimency induced. He was certain that the older man was doing this out of pure sadism; there could be no other logical explanation for the force with which he had just plowed through Harry’s barriers. Nausea rose in his gut and Harry gasped before clamping his mouth shut, praying to anything out there that he would not vomit on the floor of Snape’s classroom.

He barely felt the hands that slipped under his arms, was scarcely aware of being lifted into a sitting position. He didn’t recognize the soft voice, muffled by tears as it repeated his mother’s name. He heard the voice only a moment longer before darkness shut everything out, and the pain blessedly faded away.

By the time the boy woke, Severus had moved him into his private rooms. His fingers itched to cast diagnostic spells on the child. Watching him squirm and cry out in his sleep sent Severus to a time that he had long believed to be well in his own past. He knew those sounds, knew that defensive posture. He had slept this way himself, curled into the smallest ball possible in a futile effort at self protections. Truth be told, he sometimes woke that way even now. 

Vivid green eyes blinked into awareness, and Harry tensed up, trying to determine just where he was. “You’re in my rooms, Harry,” Severus said quietly. “You fainted after our session, and I brought you here to recover. We need to talk. There are things we have needed to discuss for a long while now.”

Harry watched him, trying to find the trap in the words. He couldn’t find anything but concern in Snape’s eyes, and that alone was enough to terrify him. How deeply had he managed to get this time? What had he seen to change his reaction to him so profoundly? Harry had a strong idea of just what would have done the job, and it was not something he much cared to discuss. Now or ever. 

“How long has Vernon been abusing you?” Severus asked without preamble. 

Harry stared at him for a long while before managing to form an answer. “Define abuse,” he said quietly. A school nurse had once made an accusation when Harry had arrived to school with bruises on his arms. A teacher had questioned his thin frame in comparison with Dudley’s girth. Both occasions had earned Harry a week without meals beyond stale bread and with added chores. 

“How long have you been going without meals?”

“As long as I can remember,” Harry said softly.

“The bruises and broken bones?”

“The same,” he said, his voice softer still. He didn’t like where this was going. Not one little bit.

“Harry, how long has that man been sexually assaulting you?”

“Summer before fourth year, sir,” Harry said, his voice little more than a breath. No one knew. He had been so careful. Silencing charms on the bed so no one would hear his nightmares, stolen phials of Dreamless Sleep from the infirmary when the exhaustion was too crushing. All those efforts came to naught, thanks to his inability to close his mind. The panic was returning in force, his chest tightening up and his heart racing.

“Harry,” Severus said, his voice gentle and soothing, traits Harry would never have thought to associate with the man. “Breathe for me, Harry. Slow and steady, now. Everything is alright, you’re not in trouble of any sort.”

“Can’t,” Harry managed to gasp out, dragging in breaths that burned and ached and did nothing to ease the oxygen deprivation that was making his head swim. He felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched away, curling into himself by instinct.

“You can. I’m going to take your hand. Focus on that. Feel the weight on your fingers. Breathe in for me, now out, in again and hold, out slowly. There you are, slow and steady now. In again, that’s a good lad. Slowly out. Listen to my voice and just breathe.”

Harry did as he was told; focusing on the calloused hand resting upon his own, on the deep voice that somehow controlled his breathing when he could not. He followed the gently spoken instructions, and the pain in his chest began to fade away. It seemed to take an eternity, but the panic eased and he was able to open his eyes again and look at the man who was kneeling beside the bed.

“Feeling better now?” Severus asked him. 

Harry nodded, still a little shaky but no longer terrified. 

“Have you experienced panic attacks in the past?”

All Harry could muster was a nod. This happened in the night, so many times he couldn’t begin to count. Nightmares, sleeping memories, whatever they were would awaken him in a state of terror. He had woken many times to vomit down his chest and sheets drenched in sweat. 

“You will never go back to those people,” Severus told him. “I will take you myself before I allow it. You will not be harmed again.”

Harry just stared at him. Only a few hours ago, Snape had been taunting him, telling him what a weak and useless child he was for being unable to close his mind properly. 

“Did you know, Harry, that your mother and I grew up in the same town?”

“No, sir.”

“We did. Only a few houses apart, actually. When she found her magic, we became friends. Petunia was a cruel child, even then, and your mother was afraid of her. My father was Muggle, and he didn’t care for mine at all. Lily and I spent most of our time together. It was safer that way, to be magical children apart from our families.”

“But, I thought, I mean, she was in Gryffindor,” Harry stammered.

“Yes, she was. As was Peter Pettigrew, if you will recall. A House does not make a person, it is merely an affiliation. Your mother and I were friends, until I made a grave mistake in our 5th year. I called her a word that should never have come from my lips. I regretted it for a long time afterward. We spoke only rarely until after school, when she and your father were involved in the Order. After I heard what I did, the prophecy Sybil Trelawny gave that night, I went to her. Begged her to hide, to seek safety. I didn’t trust Dumbledore to heed my warnings. It was for naught in the end, when Black tried to be noble and they ended up putting their trust in Peter instead. But I did try, Harry. Somewhere in your memories of that night, you might find me. I was there, after Voldemort was gone. I found your mother.” Snape stopped then, and his lips tightened into a thin line as he stared off into the distance. 

Harry thought back to the few memories he had of that night, the ones he had discovered under the influence of the dementors. He could hear a voice, after his mother’s scream. A man’s voice had been calling her name and crying out. He had always assumed it must have been his father, even though he knew that James had fallen first. 

“She asked me, when I went to her to confess what I had done. Lily asked me to promise to keep you safe, should something happen to her and James. I always thought I had done so, when Dumbledore took you to your relatives. Petunia was a foul child, certainly, but who would harm a baby? I was wrong, Harry. I trusted Albus when he told me that all was well, that you were stubborn and that you required a firm hand. I should have looked deeper. I should have known what was happening to you. I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He had long assumed that Dumbledore did not care what was happening to him in his relatives’ home. The letter announcing his enrollment in Hogwarts had been evidence enough of that, being address to the cupboard under the stairs. No one had ever so much as suggested that his treatment was not deserved, or at least expected. The Weasleys knew. They had seen the bars on his window. The group who had come to gather him this year had seen the cat flap and the utter lack of possessions in his room. No one had given a care. He could feel the panic rising once more. Why had no one cared? Perhaps he really had deserved what had happened. He had heard it so many times, from Vernon, from Petunia, that he forced them to do those things to him, that he was bad, that he needed to be disciplined.

“No, Harry. You did nothing to deserve abuse,” Snape said. 

Harry hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. He looked up at Snape, sitting in a hastily conjured ladder backed chair beside the bed. “But, I, they said they had to. I wasn’t normal. Wasn’t right, and they had to. I was dangerous to them.”

“Harry, you were never a danger. You were a child. Just a little child. Your accidental magic may have frightened them, it often does frighten Muggles, but you would not have caused harm. There is no excuse for beating and starving a little child. There is no excuse for rape.”

Upon hearing the word that he had never once even allowed himself to think, Harry felt his chest tighten painfully again. “Rape is for people,” he whispered. “Freaks aren’t raped. Freaks deserve what happens to them and should keep their mouth shut about it.”

Severus found himself having to take a deep breath before risking an answer. A small part of his mind was certain that he knew some curses that he desperately needed to test out on Vernon Dursley as soon as possible. He looked again at Harry, at the pale, frightened face and the tensed shoulders. The boy was seconds from another panic attack. “You are not a freak, Harry,” Severus said. 

“Did you know,” Harry whispered, “I thought that was my name until I went to school? I never even heard my name before then, didn’t know I even had one.”

“Oh Harry,” Severus said, “I am so, so sorry. I should have taken you with me. I am so, so sorry, child.”

Harry couldn’t stop himself any longer. He let out a long, broken sigh before the sobs began. He couldn’t even really explain what he was crying for. Maybe it was for the child in the cupboard, afraid of the dark and the spiders and begging for his mummy to come back for him. Maybe for the boy in the Dudley’s second bedroom, hungry and sore and tired from hours of work he was too young to be expected to complete. Maybe for the young man in the blood stained sheets, torn and aching and wishing for death. He cried long and hard, barely feeling the arms going around him, the arms that pulled him into a comforting embrace and held him close as he cried himself out. He cried until he was gasping for breath, hiccupping and sobbing. His nose ran and his eyes leaked like twin faucets and still he was held. When the sobs ebbed away to little gasps and shudders, his face was wiped clean with a conjured cloth and he was held still. He remained there, held close and warm as sleep overtook him.

He woke to hushed voices in the next room. He had been tucked under the covers, a hot water bottle at his feet and several warmed blankets over his exhausted body. He lay there for a long time, listening to the voices. It took him a while before he knew who they were. Finally, the door opened, and Sirius Black stepped into the room, followed closely by Severus. 

“Harry,” Sirius said quietly. 

“M’awake,” Harry mumbled. His throat ached, probably from the crying jag earlier. A moment later, a mug of warm honeyed tea was pressed into his hands. 

“Drink,” Severus ordered. 

Harry did as he was told. Sirius sat on the edge of the bed and placed one hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry flinched, and the look on Sirius’ face spoke volumes. “Severus asked me to come because of something he saw during your occlumency lesson. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, and you don’t have to tell me anything at all. But I would like it if you could give me a yes or a no. He says you were abused and that Dumbledore knew what was happening to you, if perhaps not the full extent. Is that true?”

Harry looked to Snape, who dropped into the wooden chair once more. “I haven’t given him any details, Harry. That’s your story to share if and when you are ready.”

“It’s true,” Harry whispered. The lump in his throat was huge, and his chest was tightening up yet again. 

“I’ll kill him,” Sirius growled.

Harry tensed up, unconsciously preparing himself for a blow. It didn’t come. Instead, Severus’ hand was on his again, and the soft, deep voice was once again coaching his breathing, settling him and bringing him back from the crushing weight of panic. Another hand was on his shoulder, and though it was awkward, he could sense the attempt at comfort and tried not to pull away. Once he could breathe again, he settled against his godfather, who held him and let him cry. The words came slowly, and he had to stop several times to focus on breathing through the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, but eventually he managed to get his story out. He told them both of being trapped in the cupboard, of meals withheld, the burns on his palms when he overcooked dinner, the days locked out of the house and trapped in the garden. He told of nights spent waiting to hear the lock on his door unlatch, dreading the sound more than anything in the world. He admitted to raiding the infirmary at the end of his fourth year, taking as many calming and dreamless sleep draughts as he could carry home with him. He admitted to dosing himself heavily in an effort to not feel the assaults. He told them about the stash of potions in his trunk in the dormitory, the many phials of Draught of Peace that he kept there, drugging himself into oblivion even if sleep would not come for him. Finally, his face largely buried against his godfather’s chest, he admitted to wondering on more than one occasion how many doses it would take to just not wake up again. 

Neither man spoke for a long time. Harry could feel Severus’ hand still against his, and Sirius held him tightly against his chest, one hand rubbing his back as his breathing slowly eased. He was so very tired. 

“Harry, would you like a sedative?” he heard Snape ask him. He nodded, and a moment later the cool edge of a phial was held to his lips. He drank, then swallowed the water that was offered to wash it down. He drifted to sleep cradled against Sirius as though he were a much younger child than he was. 

Once Harry was sleeping soundly, Sirius settled him into the bed and tucked the covers over him. He followed Severus out of the room after the other man’s assurance that the sedative would keep Harry completely insensible for several hours.

“How did this happen? I was told he was safe,” he ground out. 

“I wish I had an answer,” Snape told him, a hand unconsciously going to his own forearm and the scars of a long shoved away childhood of abuse. His father had once come after him with a knife for the crime of breathing too loudly when Tobias had been hung-over. 

“Answer me this. Were the rumors true? When we were kids? That your father was abusive?”

“Were they true for you?” Snape shot back, the instinct to deflect the question too strong to stop.

“Yes. I moved into the Potter’s home after he damn near beat me to death.”

“My father was not prepared for a magical child. He was afraid of me, much the way it seems the Dursleys feared Harry. I spent most of my time with Lily when we were young. Through the summer before fifth year, really. She was a natural healer, you know.”

“Patched me up a few times, too,” Sirius admitted. “What are we going to do? He can’t go back.” 

“Legally, you’re within your right to claim guardianship.”

“Still wanted by the Ministry, remember? Escaped convict? Ring any bells?”

“There is that. Do you think he would allow it if I tried to file?”

“Harry? Or Albus?”

“Harry. I’m done caring what the old man wants. I’ll bring Lucius into it if I must. He’s half the Wizengamot in his pocket, after all.”

“Never thought I’d want that man brought into anything regarding Harry,” Sirius mused. Severus nodded. He knew there was no love lost between those two. Lucius had been the one to recruit Regulus into the fold when they were little more than children, not long after Sirius left home. 

The two talked for hours, and by the time Harry woke up, decades of enmity had been largely forgotten. Both men knew what it was to fear going home, to wear the marks of failure to please on their bodies. They knew the strain of hiding a lifetime of abuse behind a smile, a glare, or a slightly too reckless nature.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry woke quietly, taking in his surroundings and noting that he must still be in Severus’ rooms. He remembered his godfather being there when he accepted the sedative potion. He recalled spilling secrets he had held tightly under wraps for his entire life. Once he was fully awake, he called out for Sirius, who came running.

“I’m alright,” Harry assured him when he skidded into the room. “Potion wore off, couldn’t sleep any longer.”

Sirius watched him for a moment, putting that statement together in his mind for a moment. “Harry, can you sleep on your own?”

“No. Well, yes, sometimes, if I’m tired enough. But mostly no.”

“Define ‘tired enough’ for me please?” Sirius asked.

“I can manage for three or four nights before I can’t keep my eyes open any longer,” Harry said, his matter of fact tone making it clear that this is his version of normal. 

“I’m going to have Severus brew you an anxiety potion. Taken twice a day, it will ease the nightmares, and some of the daytime issues as well.”

“I’m fine when I’m awake,” Harry replied immediately.

“Harry, I’ve been going through some pensieve memories of some of my classes. You flinch when anyone moves suddenly around you. Your reflexes are uncommonly fast. You are in a constant state of fight or flight. That is, by definition, not fine.”

“It’s the best I can do,” Harry snarled back. “Heroes don’t need rescuing, trust me on that one. Dumbledore’s made that more than clear. I’ve got one purpose, and that’s being a good little soldier until I’ve done what needs to be done. Nothing else matters, and we all know it.” 

“Perhaps not to Albus,” Severus answered. “But he isn’t the only person who gets a say here, Harry. You should have the choice, you always should have.”

“Doesn’t change anything.”

“True. But we can make things different moving forward,” Severus replied, his voice calm and carefully neutral. If what he had seen in Harry’s mind was any indication, he was going to have a very difficult time believing that anything would change for him.

“Do you remember what I said earlier? When I told you I would take guardianship of you myself before I would ever allow those people to hurt you again?”

Harry nodded, his face impassive. 

“With your permission, I will have the papers drawn up in the morning. They can be before the Ministry within a day.”

Harry just stared at him, his eyes expressionless. Sirius reached out to put a hand on his arm, hoping to help ground him. 

“This can’t be happening,” Harry said quietly. “These things don’t happen for me. I thought I’d be free when I found Sirius, and it didn’t happen. After the tri-wizard, when everyone knew Voldemort was back, I thought surely I wouldn’t be sent back out into the Muggle world. I was wrong then, too. I want to believe you, I really do, but I know it won’t work. Something will happen to fuck it up.”

The flat tone of his voice was almost painful for the two older men to hear, and Severus nodded his understanding. He knew what it was like to know, without any doubt, that hoping for anything better was too much to bear. 

“May I have your permission to try?” Severus prodded.

“No,” Harry replied, his voice barely audible. After a few moments, he spoke very quietly once more. “May I have another sedative, please?”

“Of course,” Severus told him, going to retrieve the potion and a fresh tumbler of water. Harry accepted both and downed them in silence before lying back down on the bed and curling into a ball beneath the covers. The potion had him under after a few more minutes and once they were certain he was out, the older men left the room once more. 

Neither knew quite what to say, or where to go from here. It had seemed such an easy solution, to draw upon the influence that Lucius held with the Ministry and transfer guardianship to Severus. It would have granted Harry safety from the Dursleys and from Dumbledore. Unfortunately, it seemed that Harry had learned his lessons far too well when it came to the reliability of anyone around him. Severus knew that what he had seen had been only a small portion of what Harry had endured. He knew full well that he hadn’t exactly made matters better over the years, taunting a child for the sins of his father. It was little wonder that Harry would refuse to grant Severus complete power over him through guardianship. 

Quite some time passed before Sirius spoke up. “What would the likelihood be of having Malfoy enact enough change to get my name cleared?”

“Hell itself will freeze over first,” Severus replied without hesitation. Lucius was influential, certainly, but a miracle worker he was not. There was too much riding on the long held Ministry party line that Sirius was evil and that his act of terrorism had been the final play in Voldemort’s first rise to power. With the man back, and the Death Eaters working carefully behind the scenes, it was still being held up as a show of Ministry might that the evil Sirius Black was afraid to show himself in public. There was simply no possibility that anyone there would be in favor of pardoning him, regardless of who proclaimed his innocence. 

Silence covered the room once more, until something occurred to Severus that should have been obvious immediately. “Emancipation,” he said sharply. “Harry wouldn’t require a guardian at all. He’s old enough under the laws, and he could go to Grimmauld with you. It’s likely you’re the only adult he comes close to trusting at any rate.”

“That would work,” Sirius mused. “But the question then becomes, would he be at all safe? I would be lying if the request to knock him back out didn’t worry me. I’ll be the first to admit I spent half my teens out of my head, but this can’t be helping him. Shouldn’t we be asking him to talk about it, rather than hiding in his head?”

“And you wish to discuss what your father did to you?” Severus shot back. Sirius nodded, the message received clearly. Whether the right course was to allow the continued self medication or not, it was in all likelihood the only one that was feasible. Sometimes, the best thing to do was to block it out, to keep it tightly latched in a well made box somewhere in the depths of one’s psyche. It was perhaps not the healthiest option, but the one that he himself had chosen long ago. He had to admit that it seemed wrong to expect a child to do something which he, as an adult, would absolutely refuse to do.

Further musings were cut short by a scream from the other room, followed by the distinct sound of Harry retching. Sirius got to him first, launching himself onto the bed to steady the boy as he leaned over the edge, gasping for breath between heaves and shaking from head to toe. When Harry’s stomach calmed, he went limp against Sirius, allowing the older man to support his weight as Severus cleaned up the floor with a whispered spell. 

“Harry? Can you tell me what happened?” Sirius asked when Harry was still shaking nearly a half hour later. 

The boy stared up at him with big, frightened eyes. “Nagini,” he whispered. “She’s feeding. Voldemort took another victim tonight, a Muggle. He fed her to Nagini when he was finished with her.”

Harry didn’t specify what exactly had been done to the woman, but it didn’t take much imagination to know. Severus knew that Bellatrix was the most frequent visitor to the Dark Lord’s rooms at night, but she was by far not the only one. What Voldermort wanted, he got, and when his desires ran afoul of even what Bella was willing to give, a Muggle woman was often brought in for his uses. 

Any further discussion was interrupted by someone pounding on the door to Severus’ rooms. A pointed glance had Sirius raising his wand to disillusion himself and Harry as Snape rushed out of the bedchamber to find out what was needed at this hour. What he found was a frantic looking Draco Malfoy, a dressing gown hastily tossed on over his sleep clothes. Draco had his wand in one hand and growled at Severus to let him in immediately. Largely out of shock, Severus stepped aside. It was as Draco shoved past him that he noticed the bracelet around Draco’s wrist, a thickly knotted coil of silver snakes with runes etched into the surface. Severus watched in utter disbelief as Draco made his way to the room where Harry and Sirius were hidden. As though the disillusionment charm was as effective as a child’s hiding place behind a curtain, Draco reached out and wrapped his arms around Harry. Sirius dropped the charm, wand aloft and ready to duel. Draco looked at him calmly and shook his head. 

Draco lifted his left arm in explanation, displaying the courting band for Sirius as he gathered Harry into his arms. “I’m here, I’ve got you,” he whispered to Harry, and the smaller boy buried his head against Draco’s neck and went utterly limp. Draco retrieved a pair of phials from the pocket of his dressing gown, feeding them to Harry with practiced ease before demanding that someone bring him something with which to clean Harry up. Once that had been accomplished and Harry was dozing in Draco’s arms after whispered reassurances that he would be staying the night, Draco finally looked up at the two adults in the room.

“I suppose you’re going to want explanations,” he drawled.

“Whatever gives you that idea?” Severus shot back. 

Draco lifted one of Harry’s hands for them to see. On the middle finger was a silver ring, the ouroboros a clear mate to the band around Draco’s wrist. “Location, protection, and communication wards. The same ones on my parents’ bands. When necessary, they open an occlumens link, allowing us to keep one another safe, to calm one another from a distance, or to bypass impenetrable wards on my Potions professor’s rooms to find my fucking boyfriend when said professor decided to fucking torture him. You demanded that he talk about what those Muggles have done to him and you didn’t bother to suggest that perhaps a bit of Dreamless Sleep would be a good idea? A fucking sedative, for the love of shit, trapping him in a fucking vision because you couldn’t deal with an upset teenager. I thought you were supposed to have some clue what the hell you’re doing but obviously not.”

In his arms, Harry stirred as Draco’s voice became sharper. Without missing a beat, Draco cast a silencing charm around Harry and continued right on with taking Severus to task for the events of the evening. “Occlumency lessons. More like sanctioned mind rape, if you ask me. How in fuck is he to learn how to close his mind if you don’t offer anything more than assault as a teaching strategy? I taught him how to ward the worst of it, but you had to go and keep right on pushing, didn’t you? Had to break him because of some stupid grudge between you and a man who’s been dead more than a decade. Real helpful there, Severus. Let’s just render the only hope any of us have of getting out of this alive into a traumatized mess because you had to see how far you could push him. Like what you found, did you? I’ve been with him more than a year and he still hasn’t said aloud what was done to him. Not that it takes a genius to know. He’s not much for touching, you know, flinches if you move too quickly, really doesn’t deal well with anyone behind him. You want to know all the dirty details of what he’s lived through? I’ll give you a few, then. There’s a scar on his thigh that he put there the night he decided to kill himself this summer. The bands activated and hauled my ass across the country into his room at the Muggle’s house when he lost enough blood to pass out. He told me later it was less obvious a choice than his wrists but that he read somewhere that the artery there would bleed out faster. Damn good thing Mother thought healing charms were a useful skill for me to have. He still hasn’t told me what happened to make him actually try it. Maybe I should take a page out of your book and invade his mind to find out?”

By this point, both adults in the room were looking well and truly shocked, and Severus had gone a bit pale around the edges. He hadn’t thought of his actions in that way. Having them thrown in his face was, at best, disturbing. It certainly didn’t help matters that the dressing down was coming by way of Draco Malfoy, growling out his words as he held Potter as one would a precious newborn baby, one hand running in a continuous motion up and down Harry’s back, a motion Severus would put money on being a rune of protection.


End file.
